


𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ━ 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙺 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚁

by pip_the_phangirl



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pip_the_phangirl/pseuds/pip_the_phangirl
Summary: ❝ do you think wearing a mask is easy? do you think i do this just for fun? ❞❝ trust me, i know it isn't easy! i understand why you wear it. ❞❝ you could never understand why u wear this, the pain it has caused me. ❞❝ look at me erik! look at me! don't you dare say i don't understand your pain! ❞━━━━ 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊| a story in which elena williams, the siren singer who wears a mask which is never removed, is invited to take a full-time job at the newly rebuilt opera populaire, where a disdainful Erik, the thought dead phantom of the opera, discovers her and takes a enraging, albeit sudden, interest in her[ erik destler x oc ]ongoing© pip_the_phangirlcover by @BrendaDaaeDestler on wattpad
Relationships: Erik Destler/Original Female Character, Erik/OC, The Phantom of the Opera/Original Character
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

* * * * *

a siren's mask  
act i , affliction  
scene one , the phantom of the opera

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( february, 1895 )

"YOU HAVE BROUGHT me, to that moment when words run dry."

That voice echoed off of the walls of the opera house, each note flawlessly sung, one after the other. Every word pronounced with utter perfection. That beauty of a voice clearly came with years upon years of training.

"To that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence."

That voice, her voice, belonged to none other than the renowned opera singer, Christine Daaé.

Elena Williams, along with her fiance Leone Mercier, had ventured from London, England to Paris, France to listen to the young vocalist, Christine Daae, play in the role of Amnita in the new opera, Don Juan Triumphant, along with her co-star, Ubaldo Piangi, playing in the role of Don Juan.

Much mystery shrouded the origins of the opera. If you were to ask who wrote it, all you would be met with was utter silence and frightened stares begging you to question nothing further. And so that's how it was.

Elena had been invited to enjoy the Opera by Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre, two men who had come to acquire ownership of the Opera Populaire months prior. They were interested in using a substantial amount of the profits from performances and transferring them to their self-proclaimed scrap metal business. She had been told it would be the greatest honor of having her attend the performance of Don Juan Triumphant, seeing as she herself was a famous opera singer. However, because she had been a professional singer for a little over five years and had been good acquaintances with Firmin since they met after her first performance, she knew him better than that.

Elena knew that Richard really wanted her to come because they both knew her attendance would draw more people to the opera house and, in turn, more money. She couldn't deny that it was a smart tactic.

"I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why."

Christine's voice was immaculate. It rang through every corner of the opera house, serenading each and every member of the audience. It was impossible to not hear it and be enchanted. It held this sort of youthful spirit that some would envy. All eyes were upon her as she crossed the stage, singing to her opposite.

"She's almost as good as you, darling." the man sitting next to Elena whispered.

She chuckled softly. "You mean I'm almost as good as her, Leone."

"Nonsense!" Leone asserted. "No one has a lovelier voice than you, my dear Elena."

"You're just saying that because you're my fiancé!" she teased.

"No, I'm saying that because it's true," he said, placing his hand over hers and squeezing it consolingly. "You are, after all, the most famous opera singer in all the United Kingdom!"

Elena considered that Leone wasn't entirely wrong. She was indeed one of the most well-known and wildly popular opera singers in England. People would come from far and wide just to hear her sing for one night only. Many tended to be jealous of her because she was also one of the youngest opera singers in the United Kingdom, being only twenty years of age and extremely talented vocally. Some even called her an enchantress because of how mesmerized the audience appeared to be after a performance from her.

"In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent."

But even so, Elena believed there to be no chance of competing with the angelic voice of eighteen-year-old Christine Daaé.

Elena shook her head, clearing her thoughts and fully bringing her attention back to the performance in front of her.

"Now I am here with you, no second thoughts. I've decided... decided."

She found herself holding her breath in anticipation for the chorus.

"Past the point of no return, no going back now! Our passion play has now at last begun."

Christine and Piangi walked to opposite ends of the stage, approaching a set of stairs. The sexual tension between the two actors that permeated the air was almost overwhelming. Piangi stared at her with near convincing lustful hunger. Christine simply smirked in return as she continued singing.

"Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question: how long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us?"

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold!" the two sang in harmony with each other, finally reaching the top of the stairs.

"The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn. We're past the point of no return!"

Christine hesitated as Piangi drew closer and closer to her. She ripped the hood off of him and drew backward at what she saw. The entire theater dropped deadly silent when it collectively was realized that they were no longer acting. 

Instead of Ubaldo Piangi, in his place stood a man with a white, porcelain mask covering half of his face.

The phantom of the opera.

Elena recalled having grown up hearing whispers about him. A rumor here and there. A freak of nature, more monster than man, they said. Called by many other names; opera ghost, phantom, the angel of music. She never quite knew if she believed what she heard, but now everything was clear. Every account, rumor, and story; they were all true.

The phantom of the opera was real and standing no more than 10 meters away from where she sat.

Elena's hand found Leone's and she squeezed tightly as if merely holding his hand would provide some form of security. Her eyes darted around the theater as she noticed policemen appear from the shadows, some in the boxes and a few in the rafters above the stage, waiting to capture the phantom the moment they had an opportunity.

No one dared to move, afraid of shattering the already paper-thin stability the atmosphere held. No one made a sound...

Until the phantom began to sing.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime." he hummed. "Lead me, save me from my solitude."

Elena furrowed her brows at the agony in his words as he sang with one of the purest voices she had ever heard. She couldn't bring herself to turn away from the mysterious man who managed to bewitch the audience through both fear and grace, but she couldn't deny that she didn't even desire to look elsewhere.

Elena's countenance took on a pensive manner as she gazed at the phantom in disbelief, realizing most of what she told about him was a myth. While he was misguided and certainly not perfect, it was not his fault he was forced to be this way. The world had shunned and shamed him all for being different in a way he could not control. He felt completely alone.

He wasn't some madman or an evil beast desperate for attention, he just wanted to be accepted... be loved.

"Say you'll want me with you here, beside you."

The phantom pleaded with all his heart, every emotion bared to the onlookers, but he paid no attention to anyone but the young singer in front of him. He gazed upon her as if she was the only thing he would ever see. With every breath, he sang every note as if it was his last. 

"Anywhere you go, let me go too!" he sang with power as he forced a ring onto Christine's finger, "Christine, that's all I ask of--"

And suddenly, Christine ripped off his mask, exposing his horrendous face to everyone in the theater.

Gasps of disgust echoed around the amphitheater as the people recoiled away, shrinking back into their chairs. Aside from Elena; she simply stared at the phantom, frozen in shock. Although she wanted to say she wasn't bothered, she couldn't help but feel some revulsion towards his deformed features.

Guilt pitted at the bottom of her stomach. Elena felt an insurmountable amount of remorse for the man, for that was the reason he was scorned.

The phantom didn't even flinch as Christine looked at him ever so apologetically. Elena couldn't begin to comprehend how on earth she felt sorry for revealing him. Out of the corner of Elena's eye, and she could guarantee his too, she noticed the police cautiously, albeit not subtly, closing in on his position.

The phantom's gaze lingered on Christine for a moment before his eyes began to flicker around the stage, scouring the area for a way to evade capture. A derisive smirk appeared on his face as his eyes were drawn above. He reached inside his cape and grasped a sword, slicing a rope that was holding up the chandelier. In a blur, he latched onto Christine as they dropped down through a hole in the floor.

The opera house exploded into an uproar. Immaculate singing was now replaced by piercing shrieks as esteemed guests leaped out of their seats and bolted from the theater as the chandelier was ripped from the ceiling. Elena watched as it crashed into the wall, subsequently setting the curtains aflame.

The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grew larger as she watched the blazing inferno spread rapidly from the curtains to the ceiling, which began to cave in. Elena felt Leone grasp her hand tightly and yank her rather harshly from her seat. He placed both of his large hands on her shoulders and forced her to face him.

His hard eyes bored into her own, "Run."

Elena's heart began to pound out of her chest as together, they ran from their seats and towards the exit at the back of the opera house. They weren't even twenty feet from the exit when her heel snagged on the carpet, causing her to stumble to the ground. 

"Leone, wait!" she shouted.

He continued to run.

Leone pushed open the doors of the theater and disappeared through the threshold and into the main lobby of the opera house. Elena lifted herself off of the ground and took a step forward, only to cry out as pain shot through her ankle as she fell to the ground once again. Using one of the velvet theater seats as support, she slowly pushed herself up, transferring all of her weight onto her uninjured ankle. With insane speed, her head whipped around, searching for the exit, but the billowing smoke made it almost impossible to see anything.

Crack.

Elena hesitantly glanced upwards and shrieked when she saw a flaming wooden beam falling from the ceiling. She tried to run, but her feet were anchored to the ground; paralyzed in fear. It was as if time had slowed down as she watched the heavy beam crash down on top of her, pinning her to the floor. When her attempts at pushing the beam off with her frail arms failed, she tried to call for help, but it came out as nothing more than a pained wheeze. 

Black spots began to cloud her vision, signaling she was losing consciousness. With every curt breath, the beam seemed to grow heavier. Her lungs stung with an intense fury and her eyes watered profusely. Elena could only watch in panic as the fire began to burn dangerously close to her body, racing down the charring wood. The dire consequences of smoke inhalation had begun to take its effects, she was largely exhausted. She tried desperately to maintain her head, but she could not hinder her eyelids from drooping shut.

As the flame began to eat through her elegant dress, the fatigue had become overbearing and she could no longer prevent herself from sinking further into darkness. She finally allowed her eyes to shut and nearly surrendered herself, but not before she heard some call for her.

"Elena!"

Mustering all the strength she could, Elena willed her eyes to open and averted her gaze from her impending doom, instead turning in the direction of the voice she had grown to love.

Leone burst through the thick smoke, his eyes flitting all around the surrounding area, before finally landing on his fiancee's languid body.

"Oh my god, Elena!" Leone screamed.

He raced to her side, gnawing at his bottom lip as he frantically stared at the beam. Without thinking, he placed his hands under the flaming wood before immediately withdrawing them, hissing in pain as the fire caressed his skin. He all but forgot his singed fingers at the sound of yet another voice.

"Monsieur Mercier, where are you?" Firmin shouted as he appeared through the smoke.

"Monsieur Firmin, help! Over here!" Leone beckoned.

Firmin's eyes grew wide as saucers when he noticed the young, British opera singer pinned under the burning beam. He ran to her side and kneeled down, just as Leone had done a few moments ago. He ordered Elena's fiance to help him lift the beam.

"But Richard, the fire!" Leone exclaimed. 

The flame had now eaten through more of Elena's dress and was licking her skin, the intense heat overwhelming as it scorched her neck and the right side of her face. Darkness was now teasing her vision as she further slipped towards unconsciousness. The adrenaline pulsing through her veins was not enough to keep her from whimpering in pain.

"A few burns on our hands will be the least of our worries if we do not save Elena!" Firmin snapped. "Now brace yourself!"

After a moment's hesitation, Leone nodded and both men grabbed a side of the beam, grunting as the fire touched their skin.

"1, 2, 3, lift!"

In unison, using all of their strength, they lifted the beam off of Elena and dropped it with a loud thud to the side. Firmin groaned through gritted teeth, clutching his hands as he nursed his blistering skin. Elena tried to stand but the smoke had taken full effect. To her, it felt as if she was still pinned to the ground; she was immobile. 

"Monsieur Mercier! She's not breathing!" Firmin shouted.

"No! ELENA!" Leone screamed as he ran to her side, rattling her body in a violent attempt to save her.

Leone screaming her name was the final thing Elena heard before she finally succumbed to the darkness calling for her.


	2. Secretly Dreaming of Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This book is also on Wattpad under the username @pip_the_phangirl
> 
> Please go check it out and give me a follow!

* * * * *

a siren's mask  
act i, affliction  
scene two, secretly dreaming of beauty

* * * * *

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( april, 1895)

"ELENA!"

The scarlet-haired girl's eyes shot open and she bolted upright in a state of shock. Elena felt as if she was in some distress but she drew a blank when she attempted to remember why. She squinted her eyes, allowing them to adjust to her surroundings. It was dark, save for the few candles scattered around which gave off a warm and welcoming glow.

Elena was currently seated on a cushioned bench parallel to an old vanity. She turned to face the mirror on the desk and she was stunned by how beautiful she appeared. She wore a white dress with a flowy bottom and an off-the-shoulder bodice that hugged her torso in all the right ways. Her hair was pulled back in a beautiful, non-frizzy, half up half down braid, something highly unusual for her hair type. Small embellishment of sparkling snowflakes were pinned to various places in her hair as a lovely finishing touch.

Elena had to tear to eyes away from herself in order to examine the rest of the room. Upon further inspection, she realized that she was located in some sort of dressing room, similar to her own at the Royal Opera House in London, a place where Elena spent a remarkable amount of time. The only two things elements that were different were the color scheme — this room had a theme of dark pink and maroon, whereas Elena's dressing room had a theme of turquoise and pastel blues — and the strikingly distinct feature of a much larger, opulent mirror that resided on the far wall of the room.

"Elena."

The opera singer froze in her place, her heart racing as she frantically looked around for the voice. Elena's eyes stopped on the mirror. She took a closer look and knitted her brow when she saw that it was cracked open, allowing a thin stream of light to pass through. The voice continued to say her name as if it were summoning her and she was helpless to resist its call.

She pushed herself off of the comfort of the bench and took a few small strides towards the mirror. A shock went up her arm as her fingers grazed the cold glass. Elena gripped the reflective surface and pushed it to the side, the light from the area behind it flooding the floor. Goosebumps ran up her skin as the cool air from the empty tunnel surrounded her.

"Elena," came the voice once more, begging her presence.

Elena realized she had a decision to make: either stay in this room where she was guaranteed safety and familiarity in a place she seemed to know or venture into this chilling, dark passage that was mysterious and uncharted.

Except it wasn't uncharted. Elena was well acquainted with the darkness that came along with the isolation she had lived through over her twenty years. Not many cared for her and it was a very lonely lifestyle. Through a single word, this voice seemed to hear and understand her torment; it shared in her emptiness.

She chose the latter.

With one last hesitant glance behind her, Elena stepped through the final threshold between her and the unknown and closed the mirror behind her. Her footsteps echoed off of the old stone bricks, sending a hollow sound down the entire corridor. The passage was well lit, with a candelabra attached to the wall every few feet. It was almost untainted, like someone frequently traveled through it.

As she moved further down the corridor, Elena couldn't help but think that something was off. It almost felt like it was a falsehood. It was as if there was a hazy mist encasing her mind, preventing her from breaching out and really focusing on one thing. She had to be in some sort of dream.

Elena weaved her way through countless tunnels, in and out of many doors. She had no sense of direction and no clue where she was going. Her only guide was the ghostly voice that continued to beckon her, coaxing her further and further down. She hadn't the slightest clue where she was and why she was having this dream. This place was all very unfamiliar to her. Eventually, after she had made her way down a large staircase, Elena came across the deepest part of the catacombs. It was much darker down there and more ominous. There was a large river leading to God knows where with damp pathways on either side. She continued on her journey, traversing down those dark pathways until they came to an end, revealing a large body of water.

Elena peered at the vast lake in front of her, shocked by how obscenely large it was. It was completely calm, glassy as a white mist crept over the surface. Just the sight made her shiver. And still, she was spurred her on. She advanced forward, stepping into the stagnant water, and began wading through, completely ignoring the bone-chilling temperate. She was barefoot, but she paid it no mind. The only thing that captured her attention was the voice. 

At the end of said lake was a brightly lit opening to the end of the cavern. This cave wasn't barren like the rest of the catacombs, but instead full of old furniture and knickknacks wall to wall. It was someone's home, it appeared.

Elena approached the entrance and cautiously sneaked a look around the corner. She instantly froze when she sighted a man clad in black, his white, porcelain half-mask glinting in the soft candlelight. The phantom of the opera was crouched by the shoreline, methodically watching as the water lapped over the smooth stone. Elena blinked a few times, not knowing what she was seeing. Surely she was insane. She was having a dream of a man with whom she had no prior interactions. But how could it be a dream? Everything seemed so vivid, so tangible and real.

He peered up at her, sharp blue meeting with vivid green. Elena waited with bated breath as he slowly rose from his position and offered his hand to her.

"Elena," he said once more, enchanting as ever.

But Elena hesitated.

This man, the phantom, was supposed to be dangerous, a cruel, cold creature of darkness. Some sort of monster who showed no mercy to those who dared travel into the depths of his home. But as his eyes sparkled with an almost innocent child-like wonder, something about him drew Elena in closer than her mind wanted. But her heart and soul couldn't be denied.

Elena took the mysterious phantom's hand.

The pair shared a very intent stare, his stern yet full of ardor and her's soft yet full unease, as he eased her out of the water and onto dry ground. She stayed still, watching as he released her hand and took a few paces away from her, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds as if to ensure she was still there. Maybe he believed that this was an insane fantasy as Elena did and she would disappear into thin air if he didn't keep her in his eye line. 

The young opera singer took a second to bring her attention away from the phantom and to the ominous place that they were currently in. Out of the lake and in many places elsewhere, there were candles all around, leaving not a single shadow. A magnificent organ, practically decorated with pages upon pages of sheet music, resided a few feet away from the shoreline, surrounded by a multitude of partially covered mirrors.

Elena felt a crawling sensation on her skin and turned her head, only to be met with the burning gaze of the phantom. She narrowed her eyes as he smirked at her.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation," he began, softly. "Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses, abandon their defenses."

And just as simple as that, Elena was, in a sense, hypnotized. It was as if she no longer had control over her own body as he gestured with his hand for her to follow him.

"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you." he sang, guiding her through his home. "Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night."

Every step she took seemed to send Elena deeper into a daze, the fog encasing her mind growing even thicker.

"Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the world you knew before,"

He walked behind a wall of candles, the light illuminating his structured face. Elena maintained intent eye contact as did he.

"Let your soul take you where you long to be!"

She felt as if her heart was on fire, a blazing inferno lighting a newfound passion in her heart she hadn't experienced before. Her spirit soared to new heights.

"Only then can you belong to me."

Elena was anchored in her place not out of fear, but rather out of fascination. The phantom's sensuous voice pierced through her very being and resonated deep in her soul, so much so that she was fraught with ecstasy. A silent gasp came from her mouth as she noticed a tear, the product of paralyzing beauty, fall from one of her olive eyes.

She felt herself brimming with anticipation as the phantom drew nearer to her with every step. Her heart began to pound in her chest when he placed his hands on her hips and turned her so her back was to his chest. The warmth of his body engulfed her own as his arms snaked around her torso.

Elena leaned into his body, relishing in his gentle embrace.

"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication," he whispered into her ear, his hand slowly traveling down her side and subsequently resting on her waist. "Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation."

Elena had been touched similarly by her fiance before, but it was always more tasteful and reserved. That was nothing compared to the more passionate, wanton way the phantom delicately caressed her curves. She knew that she should have broken the connection with him, for it was entirely against societal normality — let alone that fact that she had no connections whatsoever to the phantom — however, she could not bring herself to pull away. Something about it just felt so proper.

In her trance-like state, Elena slowly reached to touch his face, her fingertips grazing the cold porcelain of his mask. The phantom rapidly grasped her wrist, halting her actions, but she thought nothing of it as he took his hand in her, sending her chills up her spine. His face moved closer to hers and she could barely prevent herself from falling over as his breath that fanned against her cheeks sent her nerves into a frenzy.

"Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in," the phantom sang, his voice gaining both volume and power. "To the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the night." his words rang out through every crevice of his home, echoing wonderfully off of the stone walls.

Elena found herself smiling at the phantom as he led her through his home. She felt her cheeks flush when he briefly reciprocated the action. His smile, along with his entire demeanor, made him quite handsome, even with a mask concealing half of his chiseled face. She couldn't begin to comprehend why on earth people would want to hate such a thought-consuming man.

The pair eventually stopped in front of one of the covered mirrors. The phantom took a moment to release Elena's hand and running his fingers along her jawline, deepening her blush even further. The breath hitched deep in her throat as his fingers left her skin and moved towards the sheet. Elena felt strangely empty without his touch. 'Is this how Christine felt?' she couldn't help but think. She watched as the masked man grasped the sheet and in one swift motion, rip it off and discard it to the floor. After allowing a moment for her eyes to adjust, she saw herself in the mirror and her stomach immediately dropped.

Elena's face was absolutely mutilated. The skin across the right side of her face was melted and scarred, destroyed beyond repair. It was horrific. The hair at her hairline and down the front was singed, burnt away like it wasn't even there in the first place. She looked utterly grotesque. 

Out of pure fear, Elena buried her face in her hand, desperate to obscure the hideous sight from the phantom. It was confusing. If anything, he would be the only one to avert his eyes in a situation like this, the reason being concealed under his cold mask, but Elena could not perform any other action in her horror. Heavy breaths began to seize her body as her nerves were sent into a different kind of frenzy, a dreadful one. A choked sob fell from her lips as she pressed her hands tighter to her face.

Elena suddenly felt the phantom attempting to pry her hands away and expose her face once more. He was bullish but gentle enough not to harm her. Much to her chagrin, she lost the struggle against him and was frozen as he revealed her face to her once again.

Not willing to stand any more torture from seeing herself, Elena squeezed her eyes shut as tight as humanly possible. She begged for the darkness to take her away to free her and her wish was answered.

Elena bolted upright, gasping for breath. Her head whipped around as she squinted her eyes in an attempt to sharpen the blurred images around her, her nightmare already beginning to slip from her mind. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, causing her hair to stick to the sides of her face. Her body lurched when she felt a heavy pressure on her shoulders, attempting to force her back down. She immediately began to thrash around, fighting against it.

"Mademoiselle, you must stop moving." a mellow, silvery voice carped. "You haven't completely healed yet!"

Elena's head whipped to the side to sight a woman of no more than thirty-five, dressed in a dark green dress, a white pinafore apron, and a cap — a nurse's attire — who was latched onto Elena's shoulders, desperately trying to hold her down.

"Please lie back down!" she pleaded.

Elena gaped at her for a moment before she understood the woman wasn't attempting to harm her. She relaxed and fell abruptly back into the soft bed she was in. Her eyes darted around the room, but she paused when she realized that the right half of her vision was dark. She brought her hand to touch her eye and found that it was covered in gauze, as was the entire upper right half of her face. She turned her head a bit more to the right and saw her arm was also wrapped tightly in gauze.

"Right," the nurse huffed, smoothing out her skirt, "now that you've calmed down, Mademoiselle, what's your name?"

Elena sent her a scrutinizing look. "My name, Madame?"

The nurse looked down at her. "Yes, your name. Tell me your name."

"Elena Williams," she said.

"And what is your current occupation?"

"I am an opera singer at the Royal Opera House," she replied promptly. "The Prima Donna."

The nurse smiled. "Very good. You seemed to have been able to maintain your long-term memory."

She continued with her medical examination, her cold hands moving to Elena's wrist to check her pulse. Elena stared blankly at her lap, attempting to shake off the remaining fatigue and upset of her now fading nightmare. It seemed the harder she tried to recall the details of what had occurred, the further they slipped away.

"Your pulse is normal." the nurse spoke suddenly. "How are you feeling, dear?" 

The sound of her voice drew Elena from her reverie, causing her to bring her attention back to the nurse and peer up at her.

"I am dazed and confused, Madame." the young opera singer admitted.

The woman's eyes filled with sympathy. "Well, after everything that has occurred to you, that is normal."

"What happened to me?" Elena asked, sitting up a bit straighter now feeling fully awake. "I gather nothing good considering I am currently at what I assume to be a hospital," she said, glancing around her room.

"You were pinned under a beam and burned during the fire at the Opera Populaire," the nurse told her with a somber tone. "and you were indeed brought to the hospital here afterward. A private room was requested for you, so we obliged.

"As for your injuries," she continued when she noticed Elena staring at her bandages, "you had severe burns on the upper right side of your body, but I am hopeful that with proper care they will heal almost entirely. But until then, you mustn't move lest you irritate the wounds more."

The happenings of that night hit Elena like a sack of bricks. She squeezed her eyes shut as the painful memories ripped through her mind. She could remember the shattered chandelier, causing that flaming piece of wood to crash down and nail her to the floor. It was almost as if she could still smell the smoke and feel the intense pain from the fire that licked her skin. That seductive, sexually charged song sung by Christine Daae and the phantom of the opera. The phantom, for whatever reason, seemed to be burned permanently into her brain.

Elena shook her head and looked back at the nurse. "Where is this hospital? And how long have I been here?"

"You are currently at a hospital a short distance away from the opera house. But, Mademoiselle..." she said hesitantly. "the fire was one month ago."

Elena's jaw dropped.

"One month?" she whimpered. "I have been unconscious for one month?"

The nurse frowned. "I am very sorry, Mademoiselle Williams."

She exhaled a shaky breath. "Oh, my poor mother. She must be going mad wondering where I have disappeared to. And the public for that matter. They must be appalled!"

"You needn't worry, Mademoiselle." the nurse said. "Upon your arrival, your mother was written and notified of your condition. She wished to have come to see you but she insisted that she was engulfed in her work and knew that you were in the best of care here."

The opera singer sighed. "Of course she did."

Her disappointment was not unwarranted. Her mother, Suzanne Williams, always seemed to have something on her to-do, distracting her quite often. Before Elena's father passed, Suzanne was a lively soul, her smile constantly warming the hearts of everyone in the room; at least, that's what Elena had been told. After her father had passed away when she was only three years old, her mother became increasingly melancholy and engrossed herself in her work, using it as a way of coping.

She knew her mother loved her, her actions proving that fact more than words. Because Suzanne was a former singer at the Royal Opera House, it was her who was able to obtain her daughter a coveted spot as a performer there. Elena, with nothing but her talent, was able to exceed expectations and become the Prima Donna at the opera house, despite the rumors spread that the managers were paid off. Nonetheless, Elena simply wished her mother could show affection more.

"Your mother also decided to inform the members of the Royal Opera House of your condition and the press caught wind of it." the nurse added. "It is all over the papers. Your public is worried."

Elena hadn't noticed until now, but as her gaze turned about the room, she noticed many bouquets of flowers, ranging from vibrant lilies to delicate roses. Some were old and wilting, while some were fresh like they were just picked. Each bundle had a small card of some sort, most likely with well-wishes for London's favorite opera singer.

She ignored the gifts, suddenly knitting her brow in confusion. "I can't help but feel as if I am forgetting something."

"What would it be, Mademoiselle?"

Elena pursed her lips, her face twisting with thought as she racked through her subconscious. After a moment of thought, she suddenly shot up, eyes wide.

"Oh, my fiance, Leone Mercier!" she chirped. "Is he alright?"

The nurse's lips turned upwards, dismissing her patient's worries. "Do not worry. Monsieur Mercier is just fine. A few minor burns on his hands, but they've already healed. And just in case you were wondering, he visited you many times while you were asleep"

"That's good" Elena spoke, relaxing at the thought of the dearest person in her life being safe. "May I see him?"

"Yes, of course. I will send for him." the nurse replied, turning on her heel and exiting the room.

If she were to be totally honest with herself, Elena would say that while she appeared calm on the outside, her mind was running rampant. Her lost dream still had a clear effect on her that it made her uneasy. It would be a lie to say that she wasn't relieved when the blonde hair, blue-eyed, handsome man rushed into the room a few long hours later, bringing with him a sense of sincere familiarity, love, and security with him.

"Elena dear, you're awake!" Leone cheered. "I've missed you."

"As have I." the scarlet-haired girl replied, blushing as he grabbed her hand a placed a delicate kiss on her knuckles.

Leone sat next to Elena on her bed, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder while he intertwined their fingers and wrapped his free arm around her shoulder. She nuzzled the uninjured side of her nose into his shirt and inhaled deeply, her senses relishing in what she had been deprived of for too long. Elena loved Leone very dearly, as she believed he did too.

"How are you feeling, darling?" he whispered into his fiancee's ear.

"Wonderful now that you are here," she murmured.

Leone pressed a brief kiss to her temple before shifting his gaze to the nurse.

"I wonder, how is Elena's condition and how long will it be until her bandages can be removed?" he questioned. "I, along with the public, have certainly missed her and her performances."

"Mademoiselle Williams can have her bandages removed in less than two weeks time." the nurse told him. "And as I have already informed the Mademoiselle, her burns were severe, especially on her face. The wounds will heal, but as for scarring, we won't know for sure the extent of the damages until the bandages are removed."

Leone nodded in thanks and turned his attention back to the opera singer resting against his body.

"I wish for you to know that no matter what, my dear Elena, you will always be beautiful to me, whether you have scars or not," he said to her.

Elena looked up at him, hopeful thoughts flickering through her eyes. "Do you promise?"

"Of course, I promise," he assured her, planting a lingering kiss upon her lips.

* * * * * * * * * *

Leone visited Elena quite often when he wasn't occupied, the reason being that he lived not too far outside of the city of Paris. Despite the fact that Elena and Leone lived countries apart, their relationship was very strong. They wrote to each other often and they were never far from each other's minds.

Elena had been introduced to Leone a little over two years ago at the Christmas Eve ball the Royal Opera House hosted annually. It was safe to say that she was smitten the moment that she laid eyes on him and it seemed the feelings were mutual. The pair had courted for a year before they announced their engagement and the British press was ecstatic their very own Prima Donna had found true love.

However in love she was though, Elena had always found it odd that while she had known Leone for some time, she didn't really know him. She had told him every inch and every aspect of her life, but she somehow didn't know much about his own life. She had never even met his family, as he always insisted that he would visit her in England instead of her visiting him in France. The phrase 'love is blind' worked extremely well in this situation, because Elena never thought to question him.

As the nurse, who Elena had learned to be named Holly, had said, the night of Don Juan Triumphant and concerns over Elena Williams' well-being was plastered on every major newspaper. There was an entire page about Elena's life story leading up to her acquire the role of Prima Donna that was there no doubt because Suzanne had paid for it to be there. The summary of the article was that Elena had been there during the night of the opera, had been injured, and was swiftly recovering. Leave it to her mother to exclude anything that would tarnish her image.

Below that there was a few brief paragraphs on Christine Daae, a puff piece one could call it. She had escaped with her fiance, the Vicomte de Changy, unscathed from physical damage, but no doubt was residual emotional trauma. The article then shifted to a much darker tone, the words now regarding who was considered to be the villain that night, the phantom of the opera.

Christine had been convinced to give her thoughts about the whole affair, having seen and known him first hand. Elena lazily scanned over the paper, catching words like 'unrequited love' and 'misunderstood', but she didn't give much care to them until she reached a quote answering a query she gathered everyone who heard the news would want an answer to: What had happened to the phantom that night?

The quote read as follows: "According to Messiers Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre, the owners of the Opera Populaire, there was no body was found, however, because of the chaotic and intense circumstances of that night, the infamous Opera Ghost is presumed to be dead."

He was dead. He was truly dead and it somehow didn't seem real.

Two weeks crawled by at a snail's pace, but after what seemed like an eternity, the day at last arrived. Leone and Elena were conversing with each other when Holly entered the room, holding a small pair of medical scissors.

"Are you ready, Mademoiselle Williams? It's time." Holly asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Elena's eyes lit up like a child's. "I am very ready." She grinned, bounding out of her bed as Holly strode over to her.

The nurse turned her so she was facing away from Leone. Perhaps as some form of caution just in case things were not as expected. Elena remained still as she brought the scissors to her bandages and began carefully cutting them away. 

Holly was hasty to remove were the ones wrapped around her arm. As they were peeled away, it was revealed that Elena's scars weren't nearly as bad as she had thought they would be. There were only minor folds in the skin of her shoulder that also traveled a few inches down both her bicep and back. The blemished skin was a few shades darker than it would normally be, but she wasn't bothered by it. It was nothing that couldn't be concealed with a layer of makeup or a more conservative dress. 

As her fingers grazed over the crimps, Elena breathed out a sigh of relief. While she was by no means vain, she embraced the idea she would be able to retain some of the beauty of her body. Although that patch of skin would never be as it once was, she was glad it wouldn't. It felt like a reminder to herself that she was strong enough to overcome a large obstacle.

She welcomed that warm and pleasant feeling.

As Holly peeled away the bandages from her face, Elena could have sworn she noticed a tinge of alarm and worry flicker through her features. Whatever it was, however, it faded away as her nurse smiled softly at her. It didn't reach her eyes.

"They are all off now," Holly informed her timidly.

Elena gave an enthusiastic smile. "Thank you."

She turned to face her fiance, eager for him to finally see her once again without the bandages. For only a moment, Leone simply deadpanned, before all of the color drained from his face as if he were terribly sick. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates while he gaped at her.

Elena's smile faded as she began to grow fearful. "What is it, Leone? What's wrong?"

As his eyes hastily scanned her newly uncovered face, his mouth opened a few times as if he was trying to speak, but no words emerged.

"Oh, my god, Elena," Leone finally said as he slowly began to back away from her, "Your face..."

Elena grew increasingly worried. "What about my face, Leone? Please tell me what is wrong."

He averted his eyes to the floor. "I can't. I- I need time to think."

Before she could stop him, he raced out of the room, shutting the door with a loud thud behind him. Elena whipped around to face Holly with a distressed look on her face.

"Why did he run away? Is there something wrong with me?"

Holly attempted to keep her gaze locked with hers, but she kept looking towards the ground, almost as if she was afraid to meet her patient's eyes.

"As I told you before," she began, "we knew that would you have scarring from your burns, but we didn't know how severe it would be until your bandages were removed." 

Elena's heart began to sink as Holly continued, her words slowly locking in the reality she most feared.

"How bad is it?"

"Worse than we had hoped." she breathed.

Elena struggled to swallow. "May I see?"

"Mademoiselle, are you s━ "

"May I see?!" she shouted.

The nurse flinched at her harsh tone. Elena could feel her heart pounding in her head as a mirror that resided on the bedside table was handed to her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she hesitantly lifted the mirror to her face, attempting to mentally prepare herself for whatever she was about to see. She opened her eyes and her blood ran ice-cold.

Elena's face was absolutely mutilated. The skin across the right side of her face was melted and scarred, destroyed beyond repair. It was horrific. The hair at her hairline and down the front was singed, burnt away like it wasn't even there in the first place. Part of the skin was red as blood, while the other part was dark brown, wrinkled, and patchy. The damage had to have affected her nerves too because she couldn't feel any sort of sensation as she ran her fingers across the destruction. No amount of makeup could ever cover this.

It was like a nightmare come true.

She stumbled backward and fell onto her bed as the room began to spin. Holly quickly approached her and place a hand on her shoulder.

"Mademoiselle Williams?"

"Leave." Elena managed to choke out.

The nurse hesitated only a moment, wondering whether to leave her patient be, but she hastily decided against doing anything that would aggravate her further.

"Of course," she whispered. "I'll give you time to process things."

Holly squeezed her shoulder in a motherly manner before stepping away. Elena's gaze remained locked on the wooden floor as the sound of light footsteps faded away as she exited the room.

The moment she heard the click of the door, Elena's hand flew to her mouth as she let out a muffled cry of anguish. Her entire body began to tremble as she once again lifted the mirror to her face. The metallic taste of blood barely graced her tongue as she fiercely bit her quivering lip, examining her wretched self. Half of her face was perfect, almost saintly. Flawless and pristine, spared of any imperfections. The other part, to her chagrin and eternal loathing, was foreign to Elena, her old self now buried profoundly deep under the beast from hell she now appeared to be.

An ear-piercing shriek came from her mouth, nearly loud enough to shatter glass, as gut-retching sobs rapidly consumed her body.

"I don't even recognize myself!" Elena screeched, launching the mirror at the closest wall.

The sound of shattering glass sent her further into madness. Her cries shot through the air and her breathing became labored, causing her to go into a full state of panic and shock. Elena subconsciously found herself curling into a tight ball on her bed and clasping her hands to her face, desperate to hide from the world. After what seems like hours of endless crying, Elena once again succumbed to the darkness, the escape she so desperately needed from reality.


End file.
